A Song for Julia

four A.M. to pick him up.
    When I got there, in not the best neighborhood in the world, he was still asleep. I pounded on the warehouse door, but they couldn’t hear from all the way upstairs, so I started methodically calling him, then when he didn’t answer, Serena.
    She picked up on the first ring.
    “What is it?”
    “It’s Julia. I’m supposed to be picking up Crank for a flight to LA. Where is he? Sorry to wake you.”
    Ten very long minutes later, Crank showed up at the door, dragging a backpack. “Sorry, babe,” he said.
    “Don’t call me babe,” I replied. “We’re late. Get in.”
    He gave me a not very friendly look, and we were on our way.
    At the airport, we checked in and headed for the security gates. Neither of us checked any bags, since it was a one-day trip. It was going to be a long one. In the security line, I took off my shoes, got my laptop out of my bag and put my coat in another box. Then had to stop and show Crank what to do.
    “Haven’t you flown before?” I asked.
    “No,” he said. “What’s with the shoes?”
    “Um … shoe bomber? Pled guilty last month? It was in the news.”
    “Yeah, I heard about that. What the heck is up with that? Lighting your shoes on fire?”
    We made it through security and finally got to the gate, with about twenty minutes to spare before boarding. “Watch our bags?” I asked and went to find coffee. A few minutes later, I was back with two large, steaming cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.
    “Oh, God,” he said. “You’ve answered my prayers. I’ve been sitting here checking out everybody’s shoes.”
    He said that with a straight face. I sighed, sat down next to him, and said, “Sorry I was so … cranky.”
    He snickered at my awkwardness and said, “It’s all right. Sorry I didn’t wake up. I slept right through the alarm. This is the time I normally go to bed.”
    A few minutes later, we boarded the flight. I didn’t usually fly first class, unless I was traveling with the whole family, so this was nice. Crank and I had big, comfortable seats right next to each other in the second row of the plane. Of course, we’d be paying through the nose for that, and if we didn’t get a contract out of it, there would be a very real problem. I didn’t want to think of what my father would say when he saw the bill for these tickets. But sometimes you have to take a chance. This was one of them.
    Crank was like a kid who had just discovered candy for the first time. First, he played with the seat belts, then the lights and air conditioning nozzles. Next, he slid the plastic window shade up and pressed his face up against the window, looking out into the darkness at the other planes.
    The seatbelt sign came on, and a few moments later, the plane started moving. The first class attendant stood, just a couple of feet away since we were in the very front, and began giving the safety briefing. Crank dutifully opened the airline safety instructions and followed along. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat.
    A moment later, he poked me in the side. I opened one eye and looked at him. He had a concerned expression on his face.
    “What?” I asked.
    “It’s the safety briefing. This is important.”
    “Leave me alone. I’ve sat through five hundred of these.”
    The expression on his face was almost comical. And it was also the mirror of concerned expressions his father occasionally gave both Sean and Crank. It was cute and endearing, and at five o’clock in the morning, damn irritating. I closed my eyes again, but I could feel myself smile just a little.
    Shortly after, we were in the air. Crank spent the whole time fidgeting and looking out the window. I spent the whole time yawning. Finally, we reached altitude, and they turned out the cabin lights, and I said, “I’m going to sleep.”
    He looked at me like I was crazy. But if you flew as often as I had, one flight pretty much looked like another. I shoved the arms in between our seats up, then lay down, leaning against him, and went to sleep.
    Four hours later, we were in Los Angeles.
    It’s always a little disorienting going from one climate to another. For weeks in Boston, it had been dim, cold, and the light grey and attenuated. I’d never been in LA, but the moment we got off the plane, I knew I was going to love it. Late November, and the sun was shining, and it was bright outside. Crank and I made a beeline for a coffee stand, then out the security gate.
    As soon as